Paint Me A Birmingham
by star fantasy 29
Summary: Draco causes a tiff with Hermione at their Texan flat in the United States. How does he get her to forgive him and get her back? Nearly pure fluff DHr. OOC


She sat in the audience, her unruly curls hiding her red and slightly puffed eyes. _How could I have been so stupid? Why did I walk out like that??? He probably never wants to see me again..._ She had ran from their flat because he thought she loved _him_, one of her best friends, with red hair the colour of Ginger, freckled kissing the edges of his face and knowing eyes and smile. They were always rumoured to be together, but she loved him, the one who haunted her thoughts since the first day of school. His blond hair covering his sneaking eyes in their classes together, his hands so rough to the eye, but so soft touching her...and she probably just risked losing all of it. Tears began to well up again as the karaoke club became silent as the next singer came up to perform. She let more hair fall into her eyes as she thought of what country song they would sing now, having to do with tender love between two innocent country folks, without cares in the world, so deep in love that it hurt her to think about it.  
  
The notes of the song seeped slowly and softly from the speakers. She knew these songs all too well; her parents had country western relatives and grew up with country music in the United States. She had loved that style of music growing up, whereas her friends were raised on finer or 'cooler' music, there adding a more odd appeal to her. Draco had grown accustomed to her constant humming of them as they worked on furnishing their newly purchased Texan flat. It was a year that day that they had purchased the house together after their engagement. They spent one Spring, one Summer, one Fall, and one Winter together as fiancées.  
  
**_He was sitting' there, his brush in hand_****_  
Painting' waves as they danced, upon the sand With every stroke, he brought to life_****_  
The deep blue of the ocean, against the morning' sky_****_  
I asked him if he only painted ocean scenes_****_  
He said for twenty dollars, I'll paint you anything_**  
  
The singer up was very, very talented, and yet, sounded quite upset...and strangely familiar. She wiped away her tears, to take a look at the man who was up on stage, and the first thing that caught her eye was that astonishingly blond hair. His face was towards the floor and her vision still not quite right, so she couldn't decipher if it really was him or not. She quickly put her head down again and her curls obstructed her vision once again.  
  
_**Could you Paint Me A Birmingham  
Make it look just the way I planned  
A little house on the edge of town  
Porch going' all the way around  
Put her there in the front yard swing  
Cotton dress make it, early spring  
For a while she'll be, mine again  
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham  
**_  
He was singing to her. She knew he was...it was as if he sensed her in the audience. She looked up again to the stage and sure enough, found him staring straight at her. Their eyes locked and his eyes held the most sincere look of apology she had ever seen them hold.  
  
_**He looked at me, with knowing eyes  
Then took a canvas from a bag there by his side  
Picked up a brush, and said to me  
Son just where in this picture would you like to be  
And I said if there's any way you can  
Could you paint me back into her arms again?  
**_  
A fresh wave of emotion took over her and she brought her hands to her eyes, vigorously wiping away the water stains etched on her cheeks and lips. She tried looking away as long as possible, only noticing the people sitting in parallel tables and booths on both sides of her were focused on her. She looked to all of them and back to the front meeting his eyes again. He then removed the microphone from the stand and set it to the side, giving him a free path to walk down into the audience. She knew in her mind he was coming to her.  
  
_**Could you Paint Me A Birmingham  
Make it look just the way I planned  
A little house on the edge of town  
Porch going' all the way around  
Put her there in the front yard swing  
Cotton dress make it, early spring  
For a while she'll be, mine again  
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham**_  
  
He weaved his way through the sea of wandering eyes, wondering whom he was pouring his heart into this song to. She could hear whispers and comments surrounding her, curious as to what had happened between them. A stage worker took it upon himself to shine the other stage spotlight upon her frame. _Thanks, mister_. He was five feet from her when her pulse began to increase, as her heart caught in her throat. Three feet away.....two feet away..... He reached her table and pulled a chair up to join her. Slowly he sang and took her hand, gently menstruating the back of it with his thumb, as if to say he was sorry for everything. She couldn't look him in the eyes, but found herself doing so, new tears falling as she watched his flow freely as well.  
  
_**Paint Me A Birmingham  
Make it look just the way I planned  
A little house on the edge of town  
Porch going' all the way around  
Put her there in the front yard swing  
Cotton dress make it, early spring  
For a while she'll be, mine again  
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham**_  
  
As the verse finished she gasped a breath in for the first time the whole song while her free hand wiped away the tears that previously fell, a small, knowing, and forgiving half-smile painting her features. His eyes told her his side of the story as the song came to an end.  
  
_**Oh paint me a Birmingham**_  
  
As soon as the last note filtered from the speakers, she jumped from her chair into his embrace. Relief filled her senses as he clung to her, whispering into her ear, "I love you so much, I'm so incredibly sorry I made the mistake of accusing you of something so stupid. Forgive me? Please, love?" Hermione laughed and pulled back from the embrace. He looks as dumbfounded as ever, looking at her as if she belonged in a loon house. "I don't see how this is a laughing matter, Hermione...why are you laughing at me?" His brow creased as he talked. Her hand grazed his cheek lightly and she replied, with voice cracking slightly, "You don't have to talk with the country accent anymore, Draco." A few of the people around their table clapped to praise his performance, others to applaud their being together again. He threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, grabbing her waist, wrapping his arms around her lightly.  
  
"It's your fault, you know," he said with his natural British accent. "You with your bloody muggle country-western songs you're humming all the time. Remind me never to thank your buggering muggle-born roots for that." She elbowed him playfully and grabbed his hands, leaned forward and kissed his lips softly, lingering for only a couple seconds, then backing away.  
  
The notes to the next singer's song flowed out from the speakers as the couple remembered their surroundings. Hermione squeezed Draco's hand and whispered to him, "Let's go home, love." He only replied, "Never heard a better idea," and they walked from the karaoke bar hand-in-hand, troubles resolved and behind them.

_Song credits: Tracy Lawrence; Strong "Paint Me A Birmingham" © 2004_


End file.
